


Truce

by greenotter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU where everything is the same but Voldemort doesn't appear every five minutes to fuck shit up, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7588348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenotter/pseuds/greenotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When music is introduced to Hogwarts, Harry Potter signs up to play the violin. Draco Malfoy turns out to be quite gifted with the piano and the two find out they were made for each other, musically at least. When they call a truce on their rivalry, their lives begin to change in unimaginable ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Music Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> I dedicate this story to Your Lie in April, a very good anime with lots of metaphors and emotions that I found to change my life as well.

-Monday  
Harry tugged at the bag that ached into his shoulders, his schoolbooks weighing down his back and forcing him to walk at a very slow pace. He didn’t quite mind, although he was nearly late for his fourth and final class of the day, History of Magic. This class bored him the most, after all what kind of student would want to learn about some old witches and wizards when they could learn how to turn someone’s hair purple, or make their ears grow three times their size? It was obvious that even in his third year at Hogwarts, Harry was still fascinated by magic.

As he walked across the open area to pass the fountain, Harry thought he heard a shuffle come from behind the arch he’d just passed (he was sure he was alone). His shoulders tensed and he turned his head slightly to look out of the corner of his eye, but nobody was there. He settled for placing his bag down on the edge of the fountain and pretended to look for something. Silently ruffling through his books, he heard nothing. Perhaps it was just his imagination; but he swore it was clear as the sky. He picked up his bag and turned to leave before he heard it; a small, hesitant voice that sounded like it belonged to a small child. Sure enough, a young first-year was clutching onto the arch, his hair neat and slick. “Harry Potter,” he said again, in a clearer voice. Harry decided this must be a “fan” and gave him a quick smile and a wave before turning to leave once more. “Wait,” the voice called out again, this time more urgent. This would take a bit longer than Harry would have liked (he couldn’t be late again or he’d get a week of detention and miss Quidditch practice).

“Yes, what is it?” Harry said. He noted the loose tie that bore the Hufflepuff colors hanging around the young boy’s neck. Harry tapped his foot impatiently as the boy searched for words in the sky.

“Well, I have a petition I’d like you to sign.” This got Harry’s attention. There were not many petitions at Hogwarts anymore, besides the one last trimester protesting the ban on the Weasley twins selling their homemade products. Of course he had signed that; those things had gotten him out of many homework assignments and a talk with Neville about how his wand seemed to not like him very much (which was ridiculous; any sensible witch or wizard knew that).

“Well, what’s it for?”

“Well, my friends and I all agree that the music in this school is a bit limited. I am very gifted on the guitar, and some of my friends are quite well at it, too. We’d like lessons here at the school, but we can’t go to the headmaster without enough people rooting for us.” Harry thought this was a fair decision, and why wouldn’t he sign it? He was about to say exactly that when the boy spoke again. “But we also promised that anyone who signs the petition would enroll in the class.” Now this was a problem. Harry had no interest whatsoever in music. Plus, he was very clumsy and had limited attention span. Learning to play an instrument would be a very hard task for Harry. The large bell chimed in the distance, noting that Harry was definitely late for class this time. The young boy didn’t seem to care at all.

“Ah, I’ll think about it. What’s your name?”

“Leo Parks,” the boy smiled, and Harry waved before sprinting up the concrete stairs to class.

 

After walking in late and earning a very stern glare from his professor and a promise for detention, Harry plopped down next to Ron and began taking out his book, along with some parchment. He sloppily wrote down a question before slipping it to Ron, who read it under the table.

‘What kind of instrument do you think I would play if I decided to?’

‘Not sure.. Why?’ Ron replied.

‘Some first year wants me to sign a petition for music lessons at Hogwarts. But if I sign it, I have to enroll in the class.’

‘So don’t sign it. Unless you want to learn how to play an instrument.’

‘Not exactly.’ Harry wrote back. ‘But there’s no reason not to. Plus, it wouldn’t matter if I failed the class, right? I do fine in all my other classes and the music lessons would just be an extracurricular.’

‘Unless they’re not. Tell you what; if you sign it, I’ll sign it. We’ll learn the same instrument and just have a free period during that class or whatever.’ Ron finished the note with a large smiley face so Harry couldn’t write anything else and gave him a small grin. It was then that Hermione turned around and gave them a glare, probably hearing Ron fold the paper. She held out her hand expectantly and Harry and Ron shared a look before giving it up. There wasn’t really anything to hide after all, right? Hermione read for a few moments before turning back around and sliding the paper under Harry’s book, a happy look on her face.

‘I’ll sign it as well. I’ve been dying to learn how to play the flute.’ Two small X’s accompanied Hermione’s neat handwriting under Ron’s large smiley face. Oh well, at least they weren’t in trouble for not paying attention.

 

Later that evening, while the trio sat at Gryffindor table and ate their dinners, Leo Parks walked up to Harry with an expected look and some parchment perched onto a book.”Well?” he asked. Harry had forgotten all about it after HoM, but decided he would sign the petition anyway. He abandoned his homework and began writing his name, before another caught his eye. ‘Draco Malfoy’ was written in thin and cursive handwriting. Harry sneered at the name, but wrote anyway. Hopefully enough people signed that there would be multiple periods, and Harry wouldn’t be stuck with the Slytherin. Ron and Hermione signed as well, appearing to not notice Malfoy’s name. Leo stood very excitedly, nearly bouncing on his feet as they all signed.

“I can’t believe we basically just signed up to learn how to play musical instruments,” Ron said. “It’s kind of ridiculous. I mean, I can expect it from Hermione; but you and I, Harry?” Harry shrugged, and Hermione elbowed Ron slightly, before peering over his paper.

“Uh, Ron? That answer’s wrong, you have to cut the dragon scales into halves, not crush them into powder. Otherwise, you’d technically be making.. A bomb, I suppose.” Hermione looked puzzled at that, and began writing something down while Ron scratched out his answer in exasperation. Harry watched as Leo began walking around Gryffindor table, asking for signatures. He noted that Neville Longbottom wrote his name down, as well as Dean and Seamus, but when Lavender Brown was asked, she turned her nose up at him (she explained she had better things to do with her time, like flirt with boys and make up her own spells to make lasting makeup).

“Anyway, if Leo does end up getting music lessons at Hogwarts, Ron and I have to figure out what we want to play.” Ron looked up at Harry with a puzzled look.

“Uh, Harry.. Leo isn’t going to get those lessons. Headmaster Dumbledore may allow a lot, but he wouldn’t just add classes on because some first-year wanted them.” Hermione and Harry shared a doubtful look, but decided Ron must be right. There was no way Dumbledore would do such a thing.

 

-Tuesday  
A week later, everyone in the Gryffindor common room surrounded a single piece of parchment hung up above the fireplace. In large bold letters bore the words “Music Lessons.” If that weren’t obvious enough, there were names written down underneath with a single paragraph of explanation.

“‘Thanks to Leonardo Parks, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are proud to announce new music lessons being offered. The students below have promised to sign up for these lessons and will do so for an entire year. Otherwise, these lessons will secede for everyone involved.’ And there’s Dumbledore’s name signed at the bottom.” Ron groaned and sat back in the love chair he was resting on. Hermione began counting the names for Gryffindor house.

“Only seven of us signed up. I’ll go get the forms from McGonagall. Everyone, decide what instruments you’ll be playing,” she ordered. As she left the room, there was silence.

“We’re all screwed,” Ron said in a low voice.

“Actually, I think it’s quite exciting,” said Dean. “I’d love to learn to play, and Seamus and I,” he patted Seamus on the back, “are going to be learning the same instruments so we can practice together.”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” someone said. Dean quickly removed his arm from Seamus’ shoulder, blushing and laughing uncomfortably.

“Anyway,” Harry said, changing the subject. “I think I’ll be playing the violin. I’ve always favored the strings, and it’s easy to carry, so why not?” A few people nodded in agreement, and Harry turned to his best friend. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Well, you said you’d learn the same instrument as me. Have fun on the violin,” he said with a grin. Ron was not pleased by the idea; he was sure these lessons wouldn’t happen.

“Why did I sign it?” Harry laughed, and found himself looking at the list again. Draco Malfoy’s name was a few lines above Harry’s; he found himself wondering what Malfoy would choose to play. “Well,” Ron announced. “I’m going to bed before Hermione comes back with those forms.” And at that, he stood up and walked out of the room. More people began filing out and Harry decided he would go to bed as well. It’s been an unusual week, he thought.

He went to bed that night imagining himself on a stage. He had a violin in hand, and many faceless people were there. The only people he recognized where Ron, Hermione, and Malfoy. His friends smiled encouragingly at him, but Malfoy only stared straight at Harry. Every time he played, no noise would come out. He saw Malfoy smirk before the rest of his night was spent dreamless.


	2. Draco Malfoy and the Piano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back! I know I've been gone for a very long time, mostly at first because I got very busy and/or depressed, then completely forgot about it. Then I opened up my documents and found a bunch of unwritten chapters for this story (and others) so I heavily edited them, and I'm back on track! But if I end up off track again, feel free to comment saying how disappointed you may be, it will inspire me to get back on again :).
> 
> Anyway, here's the second chapter to Truce :)

-Tuesday  
Draco looked through the form for Music Lessons, feeling content as he sat facing the crackling fire in the dungeons. Pansy Parkinson stood next to him, reading over his shoulder. It was quite irritating, but today Draco was determined he wouldn’t snap at anyone (even Harry Potter), for today was a day to celebrate. He would finally be learning to play an instrument, one of his items on “Draco Malfoy’s Top Secret Bucket List”. “Pansy, where’s your form? And what instrument are you signing up for?”

“Somewhere. I’ve been taking a while to think, but I’ve decided on the harp.” She turned away and began searching for the form in her bag. Draco imagined Pansy playing the harp, and fought a smile.

“I think I’ll learn the piano,” he said, suddenly remembering that his grandmother, Druella, played it. Surely his father would be proud he wanted to take after her, a prideful member of the family. Draco grabbed a quill and began writing.

Draco went to bed that night thinking about the piano, and nothing else. He imagined sitting in front of it, too scared to do anything. Then Potter’s face appeared, urging him to play, and Draco spent the rest of the night up and reading.

 

-Wednesday  
Draco woke up with a pleasant feeling. A smile grew on his face knowing that he would have Double Potions today, and not even a class full of Gryffindors could ruin his mood today.

“We’ll not be working with cauldrons today,” announced Professor Snape in his drawling voice. Draco immediately frowned. “It has come to my attention that half of this class have not finished the ten pages of written work I assigned last time we were all in this classroom. Therefore, you’re now a day behind my other class. You’ll be spending all day working on that assignment.” Somebody behind him muttered something to their friend. Everyone looked curiously to one another, and for good reason. Usually, written work was for outside of class. During Potions, they’d work with actual potions. Draco felt his mood drop, and hastily pulled out his book, followed by a few others.

“He’s actually being a teacher for once,” said Weasley from across the room (he must not have even tried to be quiet as he spoke over the shuffling of papers and chatting of other students).

“He’s always been a teacher,” pointed out Granger. Draco silently thanked her for defending his godfather. “Granted, not a very good one.” He sent a glare her way, taking back his praise.

“You mean awful,” Potter butted in. Granger sighed, but didn’t argue.

“You’re right, Harry.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Teachers shouldn’t favor other students just because of their house; or relationships with their relatives,” she mumbled. Draco thought that actually sounded quite fair, but seeing as he was on Snape’s good side, he pretended that was the worst idea ever. He must have let it show on his face, because Potter send a rude look his way and Draco sent one back.

“Do you think I’d get expelled if I dunked Potter’s head in his cauldron next time round?” Draco said to Pansy. She gave a high laugh and looked up.

“Maybe detention,” she said, smiling sideways at him. Draco could deal with detention.

 

Draco arrived to lunch accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle. He listened quietly to Pansy, who spoke about how unfair her parents were being, keeping her at home all summer for absolutely no reason (Draco was sure there was a reason, but he decided not to push it on her). He thought about his next class, and whether it was worth it to go or just lie in bed for an eternity. He quite liked the latter choice better.

Draco was pulled out of his thoughts when Pansy shrieked at him, “Are you even listening to me?!”

“Sorry, not much sleep. You know,” he said, hoping she understood. Pansy gave him an odd look, but continued on complaining.

“Anyway, they were even suggesting arranged marriages. But come on, nobody does that anymore. And marriage is awful, so restricting. I think if I had to marry anybody, it would be you.” Draco smirked at that; what an odd thought, being married to Pansy. “I mean, we’re both gay so we would obviously not feel obliged to fall in love, and clearly there’s an open relationship in the deal. That way, our parents would be satisfied. I am a pureblood Slytherin after all,” she said, flipping her hair. Draco stared at her with a surprised look.

“What did you say?” he said.

“That I’m a pureblood Slytherin. What, did you think I was mudblood or something?” she snorted, as if disgusted by the thought.

“No, about...” he trailed off, hoping she would understand. Sighing when she gave him a blank look, he continued. “About me being gay.” He waved his hand in front of her face.

“Well you are, aren’t you?” Draco looked down at his drink with a puzzled look.

“My father would be horrified that his only son wouldn’t be able to carry on the family name.” A grin was plastered on his face at the thought.

“Your father doesn’t have a say in who you’re attracted to. That’s all you, darling,” Pansy laughed, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

Draco knew she was right, and maybe later he would mull over where his eyes seemed to be drawn to. “I wonder if my parents are too old to have another son to keep the Malfoys alive,” he smirked.

Pansy gave him a disgusted look. “Well, at least you’re thinking about it. It’s nice to know your options.” She smiled sweetly at a light-haired girl walking past the table, as if proving her point.

 

The rest of the day went by normally, and Draco was thankful for that. After all, he was not in the mood for flamboyance after such a dull day. Later on, while some Slytherins lounged around in the dungeons, chatting themselves away, Draco and Blaise were discussing the music lessons.

“So when do they start?” Blaise asked, ripping up the feather on an old quill he found.

“The following Monday. Apparently just enough people signed up for two classes to happen. They sent a schedule along, as well. As usual, Gryffindors and Slytherins are paired together. I think they just wanted to match a class up with Flying lessons anyway,” Draco explained. “But I don’t see why they insist on matching up Gryffindors with Slytherins all the time, and the same with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. In my opinion, if we have to be paired up at all, we should be matched up with Ravenclaws. They’re much more preferable to those other two houses.” Blaise nodded, clearly not interested in the conversation. He continued to pick at the feathers and dropped them into the fire while Draco watched.

“Well, I’m going to take a walk. If I’m not back in an hour, I’ve been locked in a cupboard by Peeves and require immediate assistance,” Draco joked before standing up and grabbing his cloak. “Or been caught by a teacher,” he added, sauntering out of the dungeons before making his way to the astronomy tower. On his way, he decided to think about his conversation with Pansy during lunch. Always focused on more important things like school and getting rid of his last name, he was never quite interested in anyone before. He couldn’t think of a single crush he’s ever had (besides when he was much younger before Hogwarts was something to deal with).

He walked up the long, winding staircase, still deep in thought. He almost pushed the large, wooden door open before he heard humming from the other side. There was already someone here, Draco realized and turned to leave. He hopped down the staircase before he heard the door creak open. Whoever was up there was now leaving, and there was only one way down. As cheesy as it might sound, the astronomy tower was a calming place for Draco, where he could be stripped of his facade without consequence. Draco jogged silently down the stairs, willing his shoes to not bang loudly against the concrete. He nearly made it before he heard the humming and footsteps behind him stop, and someone calling out, “Hello?”

Draco stopped suddenly, clinging onto a loose brick so he didn’t fall from the sudden surprise. He willed his voice to come, so he could find an excuse to have been up there. All he could do was turn around with a terrified look on his face, praying that his demeanor would come back to protect him. A foot and a leg was there, along with an arm that gripped a wand. “Who’s there?” Draco demanded, finding his voice back. The person stepped down one step and there he stood.

“Potter,” Draco spat. “What are you doing here?” He inwardly thanked the Gods that he was back to being Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Pain in the Butt.

“I can be where I like,” Potter muttered, stepping down another step and trying to slip past Draco. He made it down a step below him before Draco gripped Potter’s shoulder, forcing him to pay attention.

“Actually, you can’t. It’s past lights out. I’ll go to McGonagall. Or better yet, Snape,” Draco sneered at the look on Potter’s face. He ran a hand through his own unruly, dark hair and sneered back at Draco.

“You’re out here, too. Don’t forget that. Unless you want detention with me, and to miss music lessons as well as Quidditch practice,” Potter said with a determined look on his face.

“How did you possibly know about the music lessons?” he whispered harshly, forgetting about Quidditch altogether. He realized he was still holding onto Potter and harshly let go.

“I saw your name on the petition,” Potter said, seeming superior although lower than Draco at the moment.

“Does that mean you signed it, too?” Draco said, trying to sound rude. He couldn’t stop thinking, however, about having music lessons with Harry Potter. His life was about to get an hour every Monday worse.

“Oh, well of course. I wasn’t about to deny some kid a class he wanted.” Draco rolled his eyes.

“Heroic Harry Potter, now going to play a musical instrument on Monday. Good luck. I bet whatever you chose to play, it’ll be almost as horrible as your Quidditch playing,” Draco said, holding his chin high. Potter just gave him an annoyed look before turning away to walk down the stairs. Draco desperately did not want to follow him, but he had no choice. Potter chose to ignore Draco’s snide comments as they strode down the hallway. He nearly ran into the boy when Potter stopped dead in his tracks.

“What are you doing?” Draco said, giving Potter a shove. “Don’t you know how to walk?” Potter shushed him, and Draco decided on what hex to use on him before Potter spoke again.

“Did you hear that?” he whispered. Draco thought Potter was finally going insane. It must be that scar, he thought, that finally made him lose it. Potter gripped Draco’s arm and tugged him down a narrow hallway he hadn’t noticed before. He was about to say something before Potter brought a finger to his lips. Then he heard it too. A long, scrawling meow that meant Filch and his scraggly cat was near. Draco held his breath; he was slightly terrified of the old man and questioned Dumbledore’s daft decision (say that five times fast) to hire him. Draco decided that just this once he would listen to Harry, but that it didn’t change anything between them. Potter shoved Draco down the hallway into the darkness and Draco knew better than to complain now. He watched in horror as the old man waddled down the hallway, talking to his cat.

“Do you smell them? Come on, girl. We both heard them, now you’ve got to do your part,” he said, giving the cat a small scratch on the head. Mrs. Norris turned her beady eyes down the hallway and stared right into Draco’s eyes. Then, she looked at Harry. Filch tried to follow her view, but couldn’t see anything. Then the cat stalked away, followed by Filch. Draco let out a shaky breath, and gripped onto Potter’s shoulder once again, trying to rebalance himself after being so light headed.

“I thought I was going to die. I’ll have that crazy man fired, just you see.” Potter shrugged Draco’s hand off and walked out of the hallway, looking both ways before motioning for Draco to follow.

“I wish you would. You’ve no idea how many times that cat has ratted me out. But I don’t know why she let me go this time,” he muttered. Draco took a deep breath, still recovering from the terrifying few moments.

“Maybe she knew I could get her owner kicked out of Hogwarts,” Draco sneered, gaining his pride back. Potter just glared at him before turning away. “Wait,” Draco said, immediately regretting his decision. Potter turned, expecting another fight. “I’ve decided that, uh,” Draco paused, looking for the right words. “The halls at night are unsafe with those two running around, and you are to escort me to the dungeons safely.” Potter gave Draco a deadpan look again, before turning completely towards Draco and stalking towards him.

“You’re willing to let me walk with you? Well, no wonder Mrs. Norris let us go.” Draco gave him a puzzled look before Potter spoke again. “She thinks that we’re just clones to distract from the real students out of bed. Otherwise, there’s no way you’d be acting like this.” Draco scoffed and grabbed Potter by his cloak.

“Just walk with me. I still have yet to learn what instrument you’ll be awful at,” he smirked and dragged an unwilling Potter behind him.

“Seriously, why are you not averse to be with me?” he grumbled, attempting to claw Draco’s hands off. Draco flushed, realizing he was still holding on and snapped his arm to his side.

“I told you. The only thing here that scares me more than the idiot running this place is that damn cat. Are professors even allowed to have animals at Hogwarts?” he wondered out loud. Potter looked like he was about to argue when Draco huffed, letting him know the conversation was over. They turned a corner and went down a few steps, startling the painting of a young boy who was sleeping at his desk.

After a few more turns and stairs, the air got colder as they finally reached a place where the bricks turned grey.

“Well, I suppose I should thank you for making sure I didn’t get caught; but I won’t, because you didn’t,” he yawned, waiting for Potter to walk away so he could enter the common room. When he didn’t, and just gave a puzzled look, he found this boy was quite more irritating than he had ever thought. “What is it?”

“I don’t quite know how to get out,” Potter admitted, turning around and looking dumbfounded. Draco sighed, his shoulders drooping.

“What do you mean? You’ve been to this part of the castle,” he whined.

“Only one or two times. And I was too distracted to note exactly where every turn is,” Potter said. Draco yawned again, feeling extremely tired. He decided he didn’t have time to deal with the idiot and even if he did, he didn’t really want to. He grabbed Potter by his shoulder and pushed him down a hallway.

“Well, good luck,” he said, mocking a kind smile and turning to walk away. He finally entered the common room and, avoiding a moment of guilt from leaving Harry out there, slipped into his nightclothes and watched the moon hanging in the sky before he drifted to sleep, not thinking about Potter trying to find his way back to his room.


	3. What Happens in the Music Room Stays in the Music Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everybody! As a 2018 gift from me to you, here's the third chapter of Truce. :) Since I updated back in December, I've been itching to keep writing this story, and I had chapter three sitting in my files for a while as well, so I read through it, and edited a bit, and now I'm publishing it, yay! Please, please tell me what you think in the comments after you read, I hope you guys are eager for more chapters in the future! <3

-Thursday  
Harry was sitting in his Charms class, at a desk in the back. His mind felt like a bowl of jelly, and he found himself drifting off to sleep every few seconds at a time. “Mr. Potter!” yelled Professor Flitwick. “Please entertain the rest of the class by explaining why you did not get enough sleep last night so that you must drift off in my class?” Harry silently cursed Malfoy’s existence and begged the Gods to tell him why it took him so long to find the Gryffindor dorms last night.

“Sorry Professor,” he mumbled, assuming the class would go on. When eyes were still trained on him, he sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Was up late working on homework,” he lied.

“Hmph!” was all the short man said before he turned back to the rest of the class, continuing his lesson. A few minutes went by before it happened again. “Mr. Potter!” he yelled, this time angrier. “Please excuse yourself to the restroom to splash some cold water on your face,” he huffed. Harry stood up, bumping into his own chair before stumbling out of the classroom. He went into the lavatory and ran cold water from the faucet, letting it run down his face. He groaned into his hands before grabbing his glasses and returning to class, this time drifting off while covered in water.

 

Many hours later, he sat in the boy’s dormitory alone, cross-legged on his bed and clumsily scraping along on his violin. He was quite distraught that he wasn’t very good, but Professor Rosoff, the music instructor, insisted that Harry and the violin were made for each other. Harry thought the Professor was probably out of her mind. Draco Malfoy, as it turns out, was marvelous on the piano. Harry only knew this because he was the new teacher’s pet, told to perform in nearly every lesson and having the nerve to act humble. He forced himself not to watch Draco’s pale fingers dance across the black and white keys of the piano. In the darkest parts of Harry’s mind, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.

So then he decided that he could not let anyone know that Malfoy was a hundred times better than him, and that’s how he found out he had been practicing his violin for almost three hours and was about to entirely miss dinner. Deciding he probably did need to eat if he wanted to stay alive, he put away his violin and left the Gryffindor dorms empty save for a few studying peers. On the way to the Great Hall, he slid down a stairway that turned into a slide whenever it was feeling particularly silly, and ran right into Pansy Parkinson. He scowled, getting up and dusting his robes off as Parkinson began to speak loudly. “Ah, here he is. Potter the Prodigy,” she sneered.

“The prodigy?” Harry was confused as to how he earned that name, considering when he played the violin he sounded suspiciously like metal scraping loudly together.

“Yes, well at least that’s what Draco says. He bets you’ve learned before, and are just trying to make yourself look better than everyone else? Haven’t you already done that quite enough?” She said, turning her nose up at him. Harry thought this was a ridiculous notion and only pig-minded people like Parkinson would believe such a thing.

“Well, Malfoy needs to get his hearing checked. And also his sanity,” Harry said, ruffling his hair and moving to get past Parkinson. “Besides, isn’t he missing his girlfriend right about now?” he remarked. Parkinson scoffed and brought a hand to her forehead.

“Is that what everyone thinks? Don’t they know anything? Draco’s...” Parkinson began, but then stopped herself. She looked down guiltily and muttered to herself, “Maybe I shouldn’t mention that.” She looked back up to Harry, somehow realizing he hadn’t left her to her own devices, and stalked away with an unsure smirk on her face.

“Right. That was odd,” Harry said to himself. He looked baffled before continuing down the hall where everyone was eating dinner.

 

“I bet you five galleons he’s learned it before,” said a loud and shrill voice from Slytherin table. Harry knew it was Malfoy, trying to get a rise from Harry. He promptly ignored the boy, determined to get the last few bits of food left. “Bet he’s just trying to compensate for how awful he is at his other classes.” Harry unconsciously closed his hand into a fist and walked more firmly. When he was finally out of earshot, he sat down next to Ron and began eating grumpily.

“Er, are you alright?” Ron said. Harry sighed and nodded.

“Malfoy’s getting on my nerves again.” At that, Hermione sighed as well.

“You’ve got to stop letting him bother you so often. You complain about him all the time, you know.” Harry was silent at that and realized he did talk about Malfoy quite a lot. Hermione kept her firm glance.

“Well, it’s not my fault. He stalks me or something. He gets his friends to talk about him around me. It’s his fault,” Harry retorted. Ron and Hermione shared a look, and they ate in silence. Harry felt like he lost that argument. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Malfoy stand up and walk out of the Great Hall. Curious, as always, Harry decided to follow. “I’ve got homework to do,” he dismissed before standing up and following Malfoy.

“I thought you were working on homework before you got here!” Hermione shouted. She said nothing else, so Harry thought she must have given up. He slipped through the doors and held himself close to the walls.

The Slytherin walked down halls and stairways silently until he finally reached what he was looking for. It took Harry a moment to realize they were at the music classroom and Malfoy was probably just practicing for the day. He stayed anyway, standing behind the now closed door and waiting for the music to start flowing through the room. When no sounds emerged from the room, Harry wondered what to do. Should he knock or walk in? He shouldn’t have been expected to know someone was in there, but he didn’t want to interrupt. Harry decided he didn’t really care and opened the door slowly. He peered inside and searched for where the large piano rested in the corner of the room. Draco Malfoy sat at the piano, looking uneasy. Harry was about to say something when a single note played. He wasn’t sure which one, but it was high and sounded eery. It played again, this time harder and sharper, so that Harry could hear the thud as it hit the wood. Malfoy pursed his lips and then slammed down on the key, seeming frustrated. This time he raised a fist and brought it down harshly against the piano, multiple high notes playing all at once. He stood up, slamming the cover down and sat at a chair, fiddling with some papers. Harry thought he heard a sob, and was in a very hushed argument between the side of him that wanted to help Malfoy, whatever may be wrong, and the side that wanted to leave immediately and forget that ever happened. Harry opened the door completely, a long squeak emerging from the hinges. Malfoy spun around, his face red and Harry swore his eyes were glassy as if he’d been about to cry.

“Potter! Why are you here?” he hissed. Harry stood quiet in the doorway, finding he really didn’t know the answer to that.

“I came to practice,” he said finally. Malfoy was silent. Apparently, he decided not to mention the fact that Harry’s violin was nowhere to be seen.

“You don’t have to practice here. Your instrument is portable,” Malfoy said, sounding surprisingly not angry. He turned around and held his head high. There was a sniffle, and then he turned back around. “Fine, you can if you want. I’m done practicing anyway. Just finished a marvelous piece by a Muggle pianist,” he said, looking proud. Harry knew no piece was made by slamming one’s hands down on the piano, but he didn’t say anything.

“Would you like to show me?” he said, surprising both Malfoy and himself. “I mean, since it’s so great and all,” he challenged. Malfoy stood for a while, but then turned around and walked towards the piano.

“If you insist.” Harry followed Malfoy to the piano. He stood awkwardly as Malfoy leafed through his papers. “My sheet music,” he explained. “I’ll play a common one. It’s hard, but I like it. Very popular with muggles. It’s from a man called Beethoven.”

Harry nodded, “I’ve heard of him. I like his music.” The two were being very civil and Harry would be lying if he said it didn’t unease him. Malfoy began to play, and went on for several minutes. Each time Malfoy’s long fingers pressed down on a note, Harry felt the single sound resonate within the room and through his own body. Keys were pressed a million miles a minute, but Draco sat on the bench, his robes falling all around him, looking completely effortless and almost bored. Harry found himself lost in the music for so long that he barely noticed when Malfoy was staring at him afterwards, his hands no longer at the piano but at his sides.

“What did you think?” he asked. Harry was silent for a moment.

“How did you learn to do that in only two weeks?” He suddenly asked, shuffling on his feet. Malfoy shrugged, and looked down. He began to run his fingers along the keys.

“The piano is simple to me. All you have know is what the keys are named and when to play them. One of my many talents is being coordinated,” he said with a smirk. “And besides, my grandmother used to let me play when I was little. She was extremely gifted with the piano.” He smiled to himself and Harry was silent, shuffling his fingers together and apart.

“Well,” Harry started. Malfoy’s shoulders tensed, and he looked up as if finally realizing exactly who was in the room with him.

“Anyway, I’m sure you’re much better with the violin. Been practicing for ages, I assume.” Malfoy turned away and stood up, reaching for his bag. He was about to stalk out of the room, but turned back around to Harry, a bewildered look on his face.

“What happens in the music room stays in the music room.” And then he left, leaving Harry to stand next to the now silent piano; he stared at it. It’s just an object now, but when Malfoy touched it, when he played it, it became a thing of beauty and awe. How could someone do something like that, he wondered. How could someone touch something so simple and make it seem alive and colorful?


End file.
